#prandall

[ofsnakesandwizards-blog]

Sweet Boys || Randall and Dallas

Tagging: Randall Ryan and Dallas Rolf

Location: Hallway 

Time: Late morning, after first classes have ended.

Notes: Dallas stumbles into Randall amid his own confusion. Randall happily takes advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 

Extra Notes: 

Dallas whipped his head to the side to stare at them, and recognizing them as a pair of Muggleborn twins, he was about to tell them to, “Shut the fuck up, you Mudbloods.” when he again shut himself down on the very idea, and with a very befuddled expression, Dallas simply turned around and walked off, bag hanging dejectedly off of his shoulder. The very idea of calling someone such an atrocious name suddenly seemed like a horrific crime- but he’d never had this sort of problem before. ‘What’s going on? I know who I am, but I’m not who I should be. This is...this is terrible and it needs to fucking stop.’ Even as the expletive crossed his mind, Dallas reddened with shame, worrying someone might read his mind. His glances slid about, looking for any sort of scandalized-looking person, worry on his face. He shuddered a bit, and it was a few quiet moments before Dallas realized he was slipping.

Even as he grasped this concept, the fact that he wasn’t himself - he was a body with a changing heart, and morphing mind - it fell away, and he was only left with a murky sense of wonder and worry. That too was falling from him, and slowly, he forgot all of those worries and troubles of moments ago. All he knew was who he was- he was Dallas Rolf, a fourth year with a big charade on his shoulders, trying to appear as something better than he was. And for it, he loved those of his own kind, even though he was a bit jealous of their freedom. Muggleborns. He felt like he would do anything to protect one from slander, from any sort of bullying. The fact that he was a tormentor of many Muggleborns never came to his mind. A student passed him as he thought, and he tossed a haphazard, goofy grin at them. They scurried away, much to Dallas’ confusion. ‘I wonder what that’s all about, then. Do they not like being smiled at?’ Sighing, and still looking over his shoulder at the retreating form of the student, Dallas took two steps forward and smacked into a warm, solid mass.

His heart stuttering and a gasp racing from his throat, Dallas started almost violently as he rebounded, managing not to fall, but definitely stumbled back a bit. Already looking rather upset, Dallas looked up, his apology half-way out of his lips, when he stopped dead and fell silent. The student he had run into was daunting, and seemed to know it. Dallas blinked, trying to find a name, surprised for a moment when it took so long to remember much of anyone he seemed to know. After some frantic though, the name sluggishly presented itself to him. Looking up at the decidedly irritated older boy, Dallas decided to at least attempt to name him, and re-attempt to apologize.

“Randall? I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to run into you, I was just sort of distracted by some other strange student who apparently didn’t like being smiled...at....and I’m blabbering on like this.” he sighed, casting a worried glanced up at Randall. “Again, I’m sorry. You alright?” His voice didn’t sound very nervous, nor did his face, but something in Dallas’ posture gave away the fact that he found Randall to be rather intimidating. It didn’t help that there was a niggling sort of itch at the back of his mind that was trying to say something about Randall. How this couldn’t be Randall. Randall was nice, Randall was a pretty acceptable Gryffindor, as far as Dallas knew, even for a Mudblood... Dallas gave his head a shake, dislodging those thoughts. ‘Can’t be true...can’t be true....No. What’s wrong with me? Mudblood? What sort of person am I?’ For a moment, he was distracted from the whole situation, but was brought back by a derisive chuckle that had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

[dorianj-alexander-blog]

Solitude Is Overrated || Randall & DJ

Tagging:  Randall Ryan and DJ Alexander

Location:  The Quidditch pitch

Time:  Mid-afternoon

Notes:  Randall’s out for some Quidditch practice alone when he runs into DJ.  Words are exchanged.

Extra Notes:  No big deal at all. :d

RANDALL RYAN:

Randall squinted at the person standing not too far away from him, trying to figure out what Slytherin student would be out on such a nice autumn day, instead of skulking in their dungeon of a common room.  He’d spent the entire week looking over his shoulder whenever he saw the telltale flash of green and silver, and it was tiring.  So he wasn’t exactly happy to see one of them invading his alone time on the pitch.  He swung his broom up across his shoulders, holding it there with one hand while the other one dangled loosely at his side.  Ever since the attack, Randall had taken to strapping his wand to his leg while he practiced, something that he’d found slightly comforting, even if unforgivables couldn’t be protected against.  

With a groan, Randall realized exactly who the other student was; it was DJ Alexander, Slytherin’s seeker, captain, and prefect.  Also not someone who was exactly fond of the Gryffindor, if their last encounter was anything to go by.  When they’d run into each other near the dungeons, DJ had been all but cool to Randall, even going so far as to let him walk right through a booby-trapped doorway.  Besides that, the other male was his competition on the pitch, and Randall wasn’t about to let him see any of his practice, even if it was only on principle.

A slight frown crossed his features when DJ asked for a word, but he strolled over to the other boy anyways.  He had an inkling as to what the male wanted to talk about: probably the same thing every other Slytherin was glaring at him about.  The attack.  DJ probably blamed him, just like every other Slytherin student, for the loss of points Calithra had incurred.  He walked up to the boy with an annoyed look on his face.  ”Let me guess.  You want to talk about what happened between me and Calithra,” he stated, exasperation clear in his voice. 

DJ ALEXANDER:

DJ stared at him, not finding him any more savory that he had the last time they had met. However, he did acknowledge that this meeting could potentially be of more use than the last. That time, he had really only found himself irritated, then mildly amused, but later felt like he had wasted a good bit of time for nothing. Now, he demanded, of both himself and Randall as well, that some sort of fruitfulness come from whatever conversation they embarked upon.

At Randall’s attitude and words, he couldn’t help but feel a flare of mild frustration that came from restraining anger. He was upset by the very mentioning of the name, and while that was in part why he wanted to talk to him, he didn’t like the way that he was being addressed. So accusatory and disrespectful. Of course, though, DJ would feel the need to received respect from other students. He shook his head and sighed. 

“Partly, but not entirely. Mostly, though, yes.” He looked around. “Let’s walk, shall we?” For a second, while his eyes did a quick sweep of Randall’s own eyes, the set of his mouth, the position of the muscles in his shoulders, DJ couldn’t help but wonder if Randall would chose to disregard his words and go about his merry way. That wouldn’t do, but there wasn’t really much of a chance that DJ was going to physically force him to walk around with him while he spoke and inquired. 

“And, don’t say no or run off because it’s rather important and I’d hate to have to hunt you down later.” This, he said as he was already walking away, at a leisurely pace with his broom over his shoulder and his hand in his pocket where he ran his fingers over the snitch and tried to assure himself that he would get the answers he needed today, and soon. “Furthermore, I’m just not in a very temperate mood at the moment. You understand.” He threw a glance back at the other boy, certain that his eyes were dead enough to contradict that statement.

[theaviaryofthalia-blog]

Promises and Lullabies | Randall and Thalia

Tagging: Randall Ryan and Thalia Carmichael

Location: A not-so-empty hallway

Time: Night

Notes: Thalia finds Randall, after all that he's endured, and offers comfort and a shoulder to cry on.

Extra Notes: 

Huffing to herself, Thalia walked down the cold hallway, her hands in the pockets of her robes, wrinkling and balling up some paper there as she thought of her quiet, but altogether unceremonious, dismissal from the Gryffindor common room. She comforted herself in the fact that while she rather kicked out, it had been down without any fanfare or the like, so it wasn't really very embarrassing  Sighing, Thalia shrugged it off and fell into singing a childhood lullaby to herself, to ease the strangely tense feeling about her.

She had thought that the hall was empty, seeing as she had only taken this one in particular because she had heard a faint scream echoing out of the other option, but with the sound of running footsteps fading off as quick as they were, Thalia realized that that might not be so, and a nervous, jittery feeling clenched her stomach. Biting her lip, Thalia advanced, drawing her wand out of her Hebe-like knotted bun, letting her hair fall down around her. 

Fully prepared to stun anyone who surprised  her, Thalia came fully around the bend, and saw only a form lying on the ground. Tilting her head, and casting a worried glance behind her, Thalia approached with tense caution, stopping only when she saw the body on the ground. Her eyes grew wide, and she gasped, her mind letting go of her other worries, as now she felt that helping this person was the most important thing. After taking the final few steps, Thalia came to her knees, her hand firm and strong as she held some light over the person.

She didn't recognize him entirely, but he seemed rather familiar, even through the agony that was etched onto what seemed like an otherwise sweet face. Tears slipped out from under his eyelids, and though she nothing of what happened, Thalia felt her heart break for him. "It's alright," she whispered, not daring to touch him yet. "Shhh, shh... You're okay, you'll be alright, I promise," she told him softly, reaching over and, as lightly as she could, pressing her cool, soft hand into his hot, clammy, shaking one. "I promise."

[ofsnakesandwizards-blog]

Student In the Corridor || Randall and Dallas

His pockets full of the Angel's Trumpet flowers he had harvested in the Forbidden Forest, Dallas slipped back into the castle via a small door tucked into a joint between a tower and the main building. Thinking himself victorious in his little endeavor, he let his guard slip ever so slightly. He walked down the halls quietly, yes, but he wasn't so very on edge as might have been best for him. He had cast a spell on himself that alleviated him of his shadow, so he had no worries of the lighted sconces on the walls giving him away. His mood was floating in the clouds, and he felt that he would be gaining a good nights' rest that evening.

Absorbed in his triumphant mood, Dallas could hardly bring himself to notice that his gently falling footsteps were not alone until it was nearly too late. Eyes widened and mind racing, Dallas snapped himself to the shadowy side of a coat of armor as another person rounded the curve of the hall. His breathing stilled, Dallas stared as the person walked past him without so much as a glance in his direction. 'Must be a prefect,' he thought as his shoulders slumped in relief. He waited a minute after the prefect left the area to vacate his ad-hoc hiding place...and found himself nose-to-nose with the prefect that had just passed by.

Dallas stared for a second, sighing inwardly as he realized that the prefect must have seen him and used a duplicity spell to create a simple clone of himself. After searching his mind, he came up with the name of the prefect, who he noted was, unfortunately, a Gryffindor.

“Good evening, Randall,” he said coolly, nodding slightly. 'Great. Just great. Not only is it a prefect, it's a Gryffindor prefect. At least it isn't a teacher... Either way, what a perfectly terrible way to end my day. I hope he doesn't confiscate the flowers. Zagan needs them, and I need Zagan to lay off of me.'